


Attack of the Melty Man

by Historical_Muse



Series: Andy Serkis/Richard Coyle [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, british actor rps
Genre: AU, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Historical_Muse/pseuds/Historical_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it really *is* good to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack of the Melty Man

“All of us in our time are visited by the Melty Man...  Don’t say his name, Patrick; don’t even think his name – or he will rise from the shadow dimensions to do his evil work inside your terrified pants...” ~ Jeffrey Murdock ( _Coupling_ by Stephen Moffat)

*  *  *  *  *

7.30am was a good time to wake up on a Saturday morning when the whole weekend, untouched by appointments or commitments lay spread out before you, all wanton and beguiling like a sultry-eyed lover.  Better still when lying next to you in bed is your lover – all warm and sleep-woven and his smooth-muscled back and shoulders tempting you to stroke and touch...

Andy smiled affectionately at the gentle snores emanating from the body hidden under the duvet.  Snuggling closer to Richard in the big bed and propping himself up on one elbow, Andy slid a hand under Richard’s arm and across his abdomen.  Leaning closer and letting his fingers reach down to cup Richard’s balls, Andy fondled them gently and then stretched across to press a deliberately wet kiss on Richard’s throat, squeezing his partner’s warm, leathery ball-sac with a care born of familiarity as he did so.

At once Richard jerked awake with a snorting grunt – then mumbled something impolite and relaxed back into the warm cocoon of the duvet in the hope of returning to sleep.

“Morning, princess,” Andy chuckled.  “You awake yet?”

“Fuck off.  It’s Saturday.”

“I know!”  Andy’s voice contained more than a hint of suggestiveness as his hand moved upwards and began to stroke Richard’s cock.  “Hey.”  He pressed another wet kiss against the side of Richard’s neck.  “Wanna get dirty an’ sweaty?” he growled, rubbing his stubbled chin against Richard’s shoulder before biting gently into the warm flesh.

Richard flinched and flailed him away.  “Gerroff.  Just leave me alone.  Fuck _off_!”

Sighing, Andy withdrew his hand from Richard’s groin and tried to put his arms around him instead – only for Richard to swear and grunt and wrap himself in the duvet and move away from Andy’s embrace.

Hurt, Andy rolled onto his back and glared up at the ceiling.  “How long’s this going to go on for, Richie?”

“How long’s _what_ going to go on for...”

“You giving me the brush-off whenever I reach for you.  Every time I get horny and I say I want you it’s like I’ve said I’ve sold your entire vinyl collection on eBay for 50p.”  With another sigh, Andy rolled back towards Richard again and threw an arm around the duvet-bundled body next to him – only for Richard to elbow him away once more.  “What have I done to deserve _this_?”

“Deserve what?”

“Being treated like I have some kind of disease.”

“Oh, don’t be so fucking stupid.”

“It’s not... _stupid_ , it’s – it’s the feeling that you can’t stand me touching you any more.  That you don’t want to _be_ with me any more.”  Andy sighed again, rolling back against Richard and resting his hand on the mound that was Richard’s right arm under the duvet.

This time Richard _didn’t_ move away.  “Well that’s _bollocks_.”

“Is it?” Andy replied miserably.  “I absolutely adore the fucking arse off you, Coyle – I can’t keep my hands off you, and fucking you is just the most incredible thing in the world.  But for the past few weeks it’s like – well, like I said; it’s like you can barely stand to have me touch you any more.”

Now it was Richard’s turn to sigh.  “It’s nothing, Andy.  Nothing for you to worry about at all.”

“Bollocks.”

“It is _not_ bollocks.”

“Andy, it’s nothing.  _Really_.”

But for Andy it _was_ more than simply “nothing”.  He couldn’t _quite_ pinpoint when it had begun; but for several weeks now, whenever he’d wanted to fuck his lover through whatever surface they happened to be resting on at the time or to give Richard a blowjob and enjoy listening to him squeaking and moaning with pleasure, the younger man had fobbed him off with a disconcerting determination.  Sometimes he did it gently, or by pretending to be asleep; but more often than not now, he did it with a barely concealed ill temper.  Neither would he allow Andy to masturbate him; every stroke or caress Andy applied to Richard’s cock resulted in violent verbal rebuttals and elbows in the ribs.

In fact, come to think of it, not only had Richard’s appetite for lovemaking dissipated, but also, it seemed, had any desire to receive or give affection of any kind.  At best, Richard would give half-hearted hand-jobs or, more rarely still, allow Andy to rub his hardened cock against his arse; but in the past few weeks the offers had been made in such a desultory fashion that Andy had given up asking altogether and resorted to solitary masturbation in the bathroom.

And now Andy had had enough.  He loved Richard with a passion, and his current mood unsettled him; not _just_ because their sex life had – literally – ground to a halt, but because he hated seeing the man he loved even more than acting and rock-climbing so unhappy with life.  He knew that confronting Richard in bed wasn’t a good idea – not least because being in bed with one’s lover wasn’t the neutral ground recommended for this kind of conversation.  But even though Richard was clearly in no mood to discuss Big Issues given the day and the time, Andy knew all too well that he couldn’t take much more of Richard being grumpy, passive-aggressive, and generally miserable.

“It’s _not_ ‘nothing’, you bad-tempered cunt.  I _know_ it’s stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning, Richie, but we can’t go on like this.  For fuck’s sake, will you tell me what it is that’s biting your arse?  Because I want to help and I _can’t_ if you’re going to shut me out!”

Richard grunted and burrowed deeper still under the covers.  “It’s _nothing_!” he insisted savagely.  “Nothing at all.  Just let me go back to sleep, Andy.”

Something in Andy snapped then.  He threw off his half of the duvet and leapt out of bed.  “Well if that’s how you feel, then fine.  You just lie there and feel sorry for yourself and I’ll fuck off out of the way and have a wank in the bathroom – because right now I could _really_ do with a shag and you don’t want to play.  As usual.”

“Oh!  _Now_ who’s feeling sorry for himself!” Richard snarled back, poking his head over the edge of the duvet.  “Well I’m _so_ sorry for you.  It must be sheer hell being as butch and manly and masculine as you are.  So fucking macho and so pumped full of testosterone that you have a permanent hard-on.  You’re just one giant walking erect penis, aren’t you, Serkis – a stiffie with legs!”

Andy spread his hands and thrust his hips forward, then stroked his open palm angrily along his erection.  “There’s plenty who wouldn’t complain if I offered _this_ to them, you selfish little fucker.”

Richard sat bolt upright in bed, the red flush of anger spreading from his face down over his well-muscled chest.  “ _Me_?  _Selfish_?  _You’re_ the one constantly demanding sex when I don’t want it – and _I’m_ the selfish one?  Fucking _hell!_ ”  Richard’s voice cracked slightly, a sudden catch to his voice indicating that this was from more than just the effects of waking.  “You just – you haven’t – _gah!_ ”  Richard pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “You keep asking me questions, and then you give me grief when I don’t give you the answers you want.  Have you ever – _ever_ stopped to think that maybe the _reason_ you’re not getting the answers you want is because – you’re – not – asking – the _right_ – questions?”

Startled by Richard’s staccato burst of unhappy invective, Andy stopped and stared at him – and then ran his hand across his disordered curls, willing his anger to subside.  Something very like shame was now beginning to trickle through his veins as, despite his own mixed emotions, he realised that what Richard said was true.  Obsessed with his own needs and his desire for his lover, he’d spent far too much time on the ‘what’ of Richard’s rejection of him, and none at all on the ‘why’.  “You’re right,” he replied softly, genuinely mortified.  “I’ve been too fixated on my knob, haven’t I.”

“You’ve _been_ a right knob too,” Richard harrumphed gruffly, seeming mollified.

Andy chuckled wryly.  “Oh, I’m _sure_ I have.  And telling you it’s because I’m passionately in love with you’s not going to help, is it...”

“’Fraid not.”  Richard patted the space in the bed beside him.  “C’mon, come back over here.  We’ve got to talk, you an’ me.”

Andy pulled his best ‘little boy’ face.  “I’ve a feeling this is going to take time.  I’ll go and make tea first, shall I?”

Richard frowned at him, pretending to look stern.  “You’re prevaricating, Serkis.”

Andy smiled as Richard’s voice fractured again on the words.  “I think we’ll both feel better for a piss and a cup of tea.”  He paused, and looked at Richard thoughtfully.  “I’ve been a cunt, haven’t I...”

“Go and make that tea,” Richard smiled, his grin crooked as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  “Before I lose my nerve...”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

 Richard sipped at the mug of hot, fragrant tea, wrapping his fingers around the heated china.  “I _know_ you love me to bits, Andy.  And it’s not that I don’t absolutely adore _you_.  It’s just...”  He looked up at Andy and smiled shyly.  “I’m – just still a bit unsure about what’s going on, y’know – with you and me, like.  After years of being a raging heterosexual, it’s – well, a same-sex relationship’s still hard for me to get to grips with in my head.  I know that I _like_ what we’ve got, though – and I love _you_ to bits!  It’s just –”  Richard sighed, and then wrinkled his nose in another bemused smile.  “It’s _hard_ for me, Andy.  Sometimes I get confused and I’m not sure _what_ I want.  All I ever _really_ know is that I want _you_.”

Andy nodded, and gulped down tea, taking care not to scorch his tongue.  “That’s all I need to know,” he grinned, squeezing Richard’s hand gently.  “I was – well, I shouldn’t push.  Just tell me to back off in future, if you need me to.  I didn’t mean to –”

Richard suddenly took a deep breath.  “It’s not _just_ that,” he interrupted, skin flushing as he stared at the dried lube mark on the duvet cover.

Andy paled.  “Oh Christ...oh _fuck_ , Richie – what’s up?”

Richard made a strange, strangled noise in the back of his throat.  “You know that new play by Patrick Süsskind you wanted to be involved with?”  He squirmed slightly.  “I’m up for the lead in it,” he admitted, noticing Andy tense as he did so.  “I’ve been feeling fucking guilty about that ‘cos I know it was something you really fancied, but I wasn’t going to turn it down, was I, so...”

Andy leaned across and kissed him.  “ _’Course_ not – you lucky fucking cunt,” he grinned, squeezing Richard’s shoulder and relieved to see the tension starting to melt away from Richard’s face and body.  “Richie, that’s _fantastic_ news!”

Richard’s smile was lopsided.  “I thought you’d go ballistic.”

Andy’s grin grew wider.  “Fuck off.  I’m _proud_ of you!”

“So – I – well, that’s it, basically.  I can’t get hard any more because all this is doing my head in and I can’t relax.”  He looked up at Andy, feeling somewhat emboldened by the fact that his partner wasn’t looking daggers at him as he’d expected, and feeling reassured by Andy’s expression of concern.  “I’m just not in the mood at the moment.  Just – can’t unwind and I just – I’m just not interested in sex.  It’s not _permanent_ , please God – I’ve just been...visited by the Melty Man, and it’s only a temporary thing, like, but...when the Melty Man comes...well, let’s just say that I _can’t_.”

Andy raised an eyebrow and grinned.  “This is a Jeffism, isn’t it, Richard...”

“Yeah, but that’s what’s happening, Andy.  I’m not rejecting you because I don’t love you, or because I don’t want to be with you.” He drained the last of his tea and placed the mug on the bedside table.  “It’s just that – my head’s all over the place sexually, I feel like shit about getting a role _you_ had your heart set on – and as a result, I can’t get it up – and the _last_ damn thing I feel like is sex.”

Sighing, Andy placed his tea mug carefully on the floor.  “The role doesn’t matter, you daft cunt.  Of _course_ I’m jealous – but it’s _professional_ jealousy.  I’m only fucking human, Richie.  99% of me’s over the fucking moon for you, and the other 1%’s saying ‘why couldn’t _I_ have had that?’”  Seeing Richard’s mournful expression, Andy took his hand.  “But because it’s you, and I fucking _adore_ you –”  He rubbed his pillow-ruffled curls and chuckled, voice low and sleepy.  “I’m – well, I’m actually _okay_ with it.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yeah!  I _am_ , actually!”

“You _sure_ you’re okay with it?” Richard asked, despite Andy’s bright and cheerfully astonished smile, and after a pause in which he suddenly realised just how solid Andy’s thighs and biceps were, as though seeing them for the first time.  “I mean, no hard feelings?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake...”  Andy rolled his eyes.  “ _Fuck_ the play.  I’m pleased for you, and really, I couldn’t give a shit about not getting the role.  At least it hasn’t gone to some pretty boy with all the stage presence of a wet mop.”  He got up and sat on the bed beside Richard.  “It’s more important to me that I know what’s been messing with your head.”

Richard opened his mouth to speak – and then simply drew back the duvet and held out his hand to his lover.  “Come on.  Back to bed.”

Hesitating, Andy folded Richard’s hand in his own, and fixed him with a questioning look.  “You sure?”

“Very,” Richard grinned back, nestling back down into the bed and reaching out for Andy as he got back in beside him, pulling the duvet back over them both as Andy wound his arms around Richard, and pulled him close.

“Wish we could do this more often,” Richard mused as he slid his arms around Andy and moulded himself against Andy’s body, burying his nose in the curve of Andy’s neck.  “Doesn’t _always_ have to be about shagging, you know.”  He snuggled closer.  “I love it when we just cuddle; it really makes me feel good.  All safe and secure.  I’ve _always_ like being cuddled.”

Andy kissed Richard’s forehead.  “Works for me, too,” he grinned.

“No, I’m being serious.  I never thought I’d get used to a man’s body like this, after a woman’s, but this is bloody great.  Fucking hell, I fucking love you, Serkis.”  He pressed himself closer to Andy, and moaned as Andy’s arms tightened around him, relishing being cradled in his lover’s arms and the feel of Andy’s cock hardening between them again.  “Cuddling’s _nice_.  No, wait.  It’s _more_ than that.”

“What?”

So Richard told him – told him that he found the feel of their muscular, hairy bodies touching and moving against each other hugely erotic:  that he loved being able to touch and kiss and stroke and caress and explore and wind themselves around each other until nothing else mattered.

“All I need is to touch you,” Richard finished, almost apologetically.  “For now.  Just – to be touched, and held.  I – love you, and I love your cock, but – give me a little more time.”

Andy chewed his lower lip.  “Of course,” he nodded, stroking Richard’s hair.

That was something else they had in common, Richard thought wryly as his mouth moved over Andy’s collarbone, teeth nipping at the soft skin; spending time pummelling their unruly curls into some semblance of shape was a morning ritual that had grown more pleasurable with companionship.  “I sense that all is not well within thy breast, Andrew.”

“I’ve got to learn to be patient, then,” Andy sighed.  “I can’t lie and say I’m some kind of saint who could wait for as long as it takes.  I wish I was, and I wish I could.”

“Well...now we’ve talked it over and you understand, I might be more _amenable_ to naughties!” Richard sniggered cheerily.

Andy kissed his forehead and chuckled back.  “But – we can do this.”

“ _Course_ we can,” Richard assured him.  “’Cos we’re bloody brilliant, us.”

“I still feel horny,” Andy replied mournfully.

Richard, feeling Andy’s erection nudging his thigh, chortled mischievously.  “Thank fuck for that – I thought there was something else in bed with us!  Christ!  _And_ it’s a _monster_!”  He nestled even closer.  “Tell you what – another five minutes of cuddling and I’ll give you a blow-job you’ll never forget.  Deal?”

Andy nodded and laughed, relief making him feel giddy.  “Deal!” he growled, wrapping Richard in his arms and nibbling at his shoulder.

As Richard squirmed against Andy, a floorboard creaked.  “Hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That creaking floorboard.  You know what that _is_ , don’t you?”

“No.  What?”

The sensation of Andy’s laughter against his throat made Richard shiver blissfully.  “That’s the Melty Man, that is.  That’s the Melty Man slinking off with his tail between his legs, defeated and dejected.  And you know what _that_ means, don’t you!”

Now Andy was laughing even more, and Richard whimpered with the delicious pleasure of the vibrations rumbling through both their bodies.  “Go on – tell me!”

Richard beamed proudly.  “In future, there’ll be no more of ‘The Melty Man Cometh’:  the only people comething will be you and me...”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


End file.
